


The Devil's Own Luck

by malicecharity



Series: Fair Game Stories [6]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst/Recovery, Canon Divergence, Clover lives au, Clover-centric, Day 7: Free Day, Fair Game Week 2020, M/M, Not very graphic but definitely a little please take caution, Somewhat vague descriptions of pain/injury, Vague soulmates, multi-chaptered
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23264545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malicecharity/pseuds/malicecharity
Summary: Through a miracle––Clover doesn't know what kind yet––he survived the mortal blow dealt to him in the tundra. But the road to recovery is hard, especially when he has to walk it alone.... And without Qrow by his side, it feels harder and harder to justify to himself the choices he's made, and that others are making for him.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Series: Fair Game Stories [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665880
Comments: 5
Kudos: 50





	The Devil's Own Luck

The pink of the sunrise distracts Clover from the pain only briefly; with each panicked inhale, the giant wound in his chest throbs, and the taste of iron on his tongue intensifies. As the shock fades, the pain only gets worse, but he’s just not  _ dying.  _

He had thought that this type of wound would end it pretty quickly, but something in him won’t give. If someone had asked him the worst way to die, getting stabbed through the chest would be pretty high on the list, but getting stabbed through the chest and then dying slowly from the bleedout would probably top it. 

Well, it would, were it not for Qrow at his side, clutching his hand. The man is holding it tightly, anchoring him, keeping him from drifting off into the agony. Clover doesn’t have the strength to move his head, but he can somewhat see Qrow’s face, twisted and tearful. If he could hug him, he would. Instead he settles for weakly squeezing his hand.

Qrow squeezes back, and then his head drops, chin almost touching his chest. “You’re gonna be okay, Cloves,” He says, voice thick, and Clover gives him a wavering smile. 

“Yeah, ‘course I will,” Clover responds feebly, barely audible over the wind of the tundra. He gives a wet cough and can feel the blood in his throat, and though it’s an awful feeling he perseveres. If he’s not going to die now, he’ll die soon, and he should make use of the last minutes he’s got. “And once I get better, I _—_ I’ll take you out to dinner. Just… just you an’ me. An apology dinner.” He fumbles around with his free hand, taking his clover pin off his shirt. He holds it out to Qrow. “But until then, just hold onto that for me… a keepsake. You can _—_ you can give it back to me when we have" _—_ he coughs " _—_ dinner.” 

Qrow shakes his head, eyes angry and brimming with tears. He shoves back Clover’s hand offering the pin, and it falls to the ground. “Don’t bullshit me, Clover. I know you’re just giving me your stupid pin and saying that ‘cause you think you’ll die. I won’t let you.” At this, he clutches Clover’s hand harder, and Clover lets his head loll to the side, allowing him to look at their clasped palms. Though it’s difficult for him to see, vision somewhat hazy, red aura flows from Qrow to him. He furrows his brow, confused, but brushes it off when he hears the loud roar of an airship overhead. His eyes snap to Qrow’s, whose face shows an instance of panic before he reigns it in, and instead starts to pull away. 

Clover’s eyes widen and he breathes harder, afraid. He knows he’s going to die, going to die no matter what, and he doesn’t want to die alone. That makes this death his number one worst death: stabbed through the chest and dying slowly from the bleedout, Qrow having deserted him. He gives another wet cough and feels blood trickle out of the corner of his mouth. With his remaining strength, he holds onto Qrow’s hand, preventing him from withdrawing. “Please, don’t leave me,” He says, and a tear rolls down Qrow’s face. 

“I have to, it’s not safe for me here. They’ll take care of you.” 

“I don’t wanna die alone.” Qrow’s face falls, and he shifts over to put his other hand on Clover’s cheek. 

“Look, the Atlas guys will fix you right up, lucky charm, you’ll be good as new.” 

“I don’t wanna be alone,” Clover whispers, and Qrow bites his lip, his head dropping again briefly before looking back into Clover’s eyes. 

“If _—_ if you ever want me to come back, just sit by the window ledge in your room and wait during the night. I will check every single night for you, and if I  _ ever  _ see you I promise I’ll come get you. I swear.” His voice becomes choked at the end, tears falling, and Clover nods, unable to respond as the edges of his vision become gray and fuzzy. 

The sounds of the airship overhead become closer, and Qrow pulls their clasped hands to his chest. “I promise I’ll come back to you, Clover. It won't end like this.” He gives Clover’s hand one last squeeze and then stands, letting go of Clover’s hand. The red aura flickers and breaks on Clover’s hand, and the pain starts to overwhelm. He can see in his fading field of sight Qrow walking away, picking up Harbinger and pocketing something else. His eyelids start to close of their own volition, and the last thing he sees before the roar of the airship coincides with his loss of consciousness is a cloud of black feathers floating away in the wind. 

**Author's Note:**

> Basically I'm going to try and make as realistic a version I can of a canon divergence where Clover lives. I'll try to update every three or four days - we'll see. Hope you like it! Leave a comment if you do, or if you don't.


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